Modern poems about motherly love, modern poems about motherly love

Ice Heart's basically all.

1, "Mother".

Mother is like a light in the night, she will guide me to the light when I am lost.

Mother is like the moon in the autumn night.

When I was lonely and helpless, she would accompany me and give me confidence.

My mother is busy for me all day long, tirelessly, without regrets, on this annual Mother's Day.

I want to say, Mom is grateful to you!

2, "Motherly Love".

Motherly love, love young chicks, Zhao Jiaguangyi is the crown prince.

The dragon and tiger are changing day by day, and the dog tends to be eagle and the trend is getting worse.

There is no six-foot loneliness under the knees, Ah Zhao and Ah Mei are not quack.

The ghost lights are blurred at night, and the heavy snow leaks more than four drums.

Hundreds of officials don't hold Dong Fox's pen, what do orphans and widows and sisters-in-law call?

So, poking the silver pillar axe in front of the bed, the disaster is in the King of Han's golden cabinet book.

3, "Mother's Love".

There is a love no matter where you are.

You can feel her warmth.

There is a love that no matter what danger you are in.

You can feel her heartbeat.

You are happy, she is happy.

You mourn, she weeps.

It's just her. It never needs to be treasured.

But never forget.

4, "Mom".

When I knew you, I was ten years old and you were thirty-five.

You are the mother of Tuan Tuan's face, and your love is a basin full of bath water, warm, and almost floats me.

5, "Mother".

Mother is as humble as moss, solemn as the morning light, soft as the sound of water in the south of the Yangtze River, as hard as a thousand years of cold jade, when she raises her eyes, she is the bright moon, when she hangs her head, she is reckless earth.

Motherly love quotes

1. I owe all that I have, and what I can do, to my angelic mother. —Lincoln.

2. Mother, if you see a very small white boat in your dream, don't be surprised that it falls asleep for no reason. This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes, thousands of rivers and mountains, begging him to return with her love and sorrow. - Ice Heart.

3. Mother's love is a simple, natural, fruitful, and inexhaustible thing in a woman's heart, just like a major element of life. - Balzac.

4. Oh, mother! My sweet and deep nostalgia is not a torrent, not a waterfall, but a dry well that can't sing in the shade of flowers and trees-Shu Ting.

Modern poems about maternal love are as follows:

1, "Scenario".

Unscrew the faucet, use a blue porcelain bowl, wash the white rice, blow to test the water, and the rice grains are there.

The ** of the little whirlpool flashed, like some time that had passed, and on my left-hand side, a few tomatoes were red (very hard).

Echoing the afterglow of the sunset outside the window.

A handful of cress, waking up from an emerald dream, waving goodbye to the honest potatoes by the vegetable basket.

Soon, the kitchen is filled with the smell of cooking, and families sit around to share tender fish and rice that is moderately soft and firm, and the glow of the wall lamps pushes the night away.

Just like her mother a few years ago, she left behind, these subtle details, and the blood of her ancestors flowing in her veins.

**None of them can be seen, but yet,** they are all there, and they will always be passed on.

2, "To Mother".

The sun is still there, the moon is still there, there is a loving voice, but it is gone, crying one after another, go home, eat, sleep, light, thin, along the windowsill, slide down to the bedside, this is the mother's voice, a string of pearls with broken threads, if there is nothing, like the smell of the earth, the sun shakes, the moon shadow solidifies.

3, "Mother's Cycle".

Mother, I am living like you day by day.

When I nag my daughter, complained about her illness, worried about meals, wore my daughter's clothes and was ignored, and although I missed her, I only talked about the weather and cats when we met.

At that moment, I saw that my back was overlapping my mother's.

Yes, the river flows unconsciously, and my mother must have secretly cried in the bed, and she also took the door and walked around and came back in ashes.

The plackets of three generations of women are converted into each other.

Love, dislike, and mutual jealousy of the man around her.

A mother's heart, the older you get, the more futile and silent you are.

Basin after basin, pouring out.

Look, child, the moths in the sky are not only looking for daisies, but also for lamps and silly sacrifices.

Mother, you see, when the moon is windy, no matter how lonely it is, there is a rainbow halo to hold, so tight, so complicated.

White and impermeable.